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Challenge: Victory
January 2, 2008

How beautiful is victory, but how dear!
- Marquis Stanislas Jean de Boufflers

Gibbs was gamely trotting down the quarterdeck steps and into the joyful mêlée when Jack sensed Barbossa at his shoulder.

"I have to hand it to ye, lad. Ye knew what you were about."

Jack smiled a little and said, with what he felt was pardonable satisfaction, "I often do, Hector."

Jones and Beckett dead. The EITC armada turning tail. Will's promise and destiny fulfilled, in spite of Jack's immortal aspirations. And Jack's gaze moved to rest on a slight, still figure in gray and black, standing at the rail, looking out, toward the Dutchman. Very still, but very much alive.

"Shame about Mrs. Turner, though, ain't it?"

Jack's little smile froze on his face. A beat of silence. Then the other Jacks watched in awe as he glanced at Barbossa, and said, disinterestedly, "You married them?"

Barbossa chuckled, looking at Jack sidelong, like a cat in cream. "Aye. In the midst of it, it was. Ye would've been right amused." And he gave Jack a pat on the back before he turned away.

Jack didn't even wince, his stillness now an echo of that slim, distant figure's. And somehow he was quite sure he would not have been amused.

By Cat 
January 5, 2008

~ Victory ~

They're turning away!

Victory. The enemy defeated. Or not. Could one ever truly defeat the ultimate enemy, death?

They say love can transcend all things…even death. A victory was won that day… at great cost.

Bittersweet this victory. With many casualties. His heart was one.

Jack stood at the rail and watched the Pirate King row out to meet her husband. A piece of him went with her.

It was true what they say…love is not a victory march.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

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